


how to properly care for your pup

by ficfucker



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Kink Exploration, M/M, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Puppy Play, mythical boys and their mythical dog collars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 18:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20532920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: link wants to try something after trying on the collar for that days episode





	how to properly care for your pup

Link stands under the buttery yellow glow of the bathroom light fixtures that hang over the sink for longer than he intends, holding the small, color-patterned collar up to his neck then lowering it to his chest, staring at himself nervously, excitedly in the mirror. Rhett’s only a door away, in bed, probably checking his phone for one last social media run before retiring for the night, and that excites him again, fired up every time he imagines Rhett seeing him with the silly little collar clipped around his throat. 

He clips it shut and cranes his neck to look at it closer, remembers 

His fingers shake and he rolls his shoulders, runs his fingers through his wiry, gray hair, then goes for it: opens the door and flicks off the bathroom lights, prances across the room and flops down next to Rhett. The collar is tagless, so it doesn’t jingle or click and Link licks his bottom lip, can’t figure out if he’s soothed or disappointed by that notion. 

It takes Rhett a moment to notice, engrossed in his phone like Link had assumed a minute ago, and when he locks the screen, looks up, his eyes drop to Link’s neck almost immediately and his eyebrows go up and together. He chuckles, cocks his head at a curious angle. “What’re you doin’, bo?” he giggles, sitting up a little straighter under the blankets. “Ain’t no cameras rolling, you don’t gotta be wearing that right now, you know.”

Link giggles too, high and breathy, and he shrugs, feels himself go red. “I- Well, I just - I know there ain’t,” he stammers unsuccessfully. He swallows, shakes his head with a big foolish smile cracking open. “I just  _ wanted _ to wear it…! Like, of my own device.” 

Rhett makes a face, snorts through his nose, and reaches over, hooks his index finger through the silver loop with his middle knuckle, gives it a gentle, teasing tug. “Had that sweet dog cake treat thing an’ figure it’s the life for you?” he jokes.

He laughs again, humoring Rhett, because it’s funny, of course, it’s funny, he’s a grown man wearing a dog collar themed from their work, but Link feels himself pulse with a hot interest in his pants, a fluttering of tingling nerves all flocking down his spine and gathering between his thighs. “Uh - Yeah, Rhett, thought ‘Well, if it’s good enough for them, must be for me, too.’”

“Mm.” Rhett’s finger is still curled into the metal circle that hangs off the collar and he hasn’t let go yet, leans over and gives Link a peck on the cheek, weight of his arm dangling there, heavy and reminding. “Gunna take it off or you planning to sleep with it on? Maybe we’ll Mythical print a big dog bed special for you.” 

Link makes a noise in the back of his throat, tilts his head closer to close the gap between him and Rhett so his cheek presses to his shoulder, suddenly too shy to look directly at him. “I…,” he starts. “Why don’t  _ you _ decide if I should take it off,” he gets out. He’s nearly fully hard, erection creeping up and lying warmly against the line of his thigh, and he glances down, sees how noticeable it is through his boxers, under the thin sheets of their bed. 

“Oh?” There’s a smile in Rhett’s deep voice and his grip tightens, knuckle curling shut like a closed bud, and Link gulps, Adam's apple bobbing. “Sumthing new you learn today? Or is this - have you found an opportunity to bring up sumthing you’ve been wantin’ to explore?” 

“Uh.” Suddenly Link doesn’t have a brain about him. He wants desperately to be flush against Rhett, grinding and touching and writhing against him. “Just uh- Been awoken in me, you could say.” 

“Mmm,” Rhett purrs, and he sits up, shifts, grip finally falling away from Link. They face each other and Link’s a wonderful buzzing kind of nervous, smiling shyly, sharp canines showing, and Rhett extends his palm, places it to the top of his head. He ruffles Link’s hair affectionately and without thinking over it, Link slips his eyes shut, tips his jaw to the side to lean into it properly. 

“Ohhh,” Rhett says. “So you’re a  _ good _ pup.” 

Despite being the one to initiate it, Link is not prepared at all. He’s only looked at a few videos and even those were tame, no full nudity in them, opened in incognito tabs late alone at night once or twice when the fires of curiosity couldn’t be extinguished with speculation, but he feels like he doesn’t have enough: no tail, no ears or paw-mitts or any other gear that would get him in the headspace. He’s not even exactly looking to delve that far into the kink, just wants to see if it does it for him (and so far, it certainly is), but it’s so foreign, even with the wanting, he whimpers dumbly. 

With his left hand, Rhett draws his palm over Link’s thigh, makes him jolt and relax at the unexpected but deeply wanted contact. “Easy, boy,” Rhett soothes, though his voice sounds a little unsure, clear that this is uncharted water. “You like that? Me touchin’ you?” 

Barking seems too soon, and Link squirms, hums. He flutters his eyes open, unfixed at first, then settling on Rhett so near to him, face flushed pink, smiling bashfully, and he smiles back. 

“Could you lie down for me, boy? On yer back?” Rhett asks softly. 

Link nods and pulls away, drops himself onto the bed, belly up, and his shirt is rucked so the flat plane of skin between the jut of his hip bone and the dip of his navel shows. Rhett presses a warm hand to the spot and Link whines, can’t even bite it back in time, eyes squeezing shut. His boxers are fully tented, little smudge of precum darkening the blue cloth to a deep navy, and his lower stomach contracts, breathing whistling through his nose. 

“Should’ve brought one of them leashes home, too,” Rhett mutters, like he’s talking to himself. In his puppy-talk voice, he says, “That’s a good boy, Link. Lying down for me. Like belly rubs, dontcha?” 

Link wiggles happily and he can picture himself in third person in his mind's eye, a voyeur of the self, wriggling in the sheets, obviously hard, face scrunched up all silly, and he breaks character with a laugh, giggling, and he winks one eye open, darts his tongue out at Rhett when they make quick eye contact.

“Damn fool,” Rhett whispers, grinning. 

“Wuff!” Link says. 

Rhett giggles and his face grows serious, hand trailing down further, brushing the pubic hair that curls from under the band of his boxers and Link exhales slow, is acutely aware of the drag of Rhett’s fingers as he slips them under the waistband, adjusts his cock to grab it firmly by the base. 

“Oh,” Link croaks, eyes wrenching shut again, hips straining up to receive the touch. 

Rhett shuffles over and sidesteps a leg, straddles Link by his lower thighs, shuffles his boxers down just enough for his erection to stand free, and he starts stoking loosely, lazy with his movements. “Good boy,” he coos, entranced with the way Link looks: taken apart so easily, face red, hair mussed and falling over his forehead. “Such a good boy for me, Link.” 

“Guh,” is all the noise Link can seem to make, hips bucking uselessly under the weight of Rhett pinning him, hands fisting the sheets to his sides. 

Rhett leans forward, slips three fingers (index to ring) under Link’s collar and jerks him up aggressively, eyes flashing open in surprise, pupils blown wide. Rhett’s not typically the one in power between them, not sexually at least, though they switch a healthy amount, making love without the use of sexual dynamics often enough, but in the moment, it’s so wildly pleasing to see Link hanging there under his grasp, breathing hard through his nose, hair hanging back away from his face, and Rhett relishes in it for a split second, eyes darting over Link’s face to memorize that shocked, hyper-aware look, then closes the gap and kisses him. 

He pairs it with quickening the speed of his strokes, gripping Link tighter just so between them, and Link goes pliant under him, sagging like taking a bullet, and he groans into Rhett’s mouth, absolutely overwhelmed and undone with pleasure. 

“Good boy, Link, good boy,” Rhett chants against his lips, kissing and nipping at him as he squirms and tenses, thighs shuddering under him from where they’re flanked by his own. 

Link drops his head back and makes a strangled noise, neck bare, so Rhett kisses it, frenzied and hot, twisting his wrist on the upswing of his strokes, and Link pants, mouth open, collar digging gently into the pale skin of his throat. “Oh, Christ, Rhett,” he grits, eyes slipping open halfway, heavy-lidded. 

“That’s it, Link, you’re there,” Rhett coaxes, encouraging. “You’re so good, baby, you look so good.”

Link sputters and whines and he shakes his head, puts his hand to Rhett’s arm who gets the message and releases him from his grip. Link falls back into the pillows and Rhett chases after him with his mouth, kisses him sloppily, more so breathing into and brushing against each other than proper kissing, and Link tightens up all over, goes rigid, cock leaping in Rhett’s palm, and he comes, streaking his stomach and Rhett’s with long, thin trails of white, panting and groaning, hand blindly coming up to the side of Rhett’s face to stroke his beard soothingly. 

“Lord,” Link breathes once he finds his tongue, eyes opening slow and hesitant. He scritches his fingers through Rhett’s facial hair with both hands now, looking at him with a genuine, child-like appreciation, almost wonder, and they both break into matching smiles.

Rhett kisses his forehead. “Well, that sure was…”

“Somethin’,” Link finishes for him. 

Rhett laughs, nods, shuffles off Link to give him room to breathe, reaches over for a napkin from the box on the nightstand nearest to them to wipe them both down. Link sits up and peels off his shirt, which is pretty well soiled and drops it over the edge of the bed to the floor, takes the napkin offered to him and drags it through the cooling cum puddled on his stomach. 

“How about, uh, why don’t I give you a hand there?” Link offers, jutting his chin at the prominent line of arousal pressing to the front of Rhett’s joggers. 

“You don’t have-”

“Give you a hand or,” Link says, unclipping his collar, holstering it around Rhett’s neck, clicking it in place “, throw you a bone?” 

Rhett blinks at him, mind legging to catch up a second behind the action, and he splits into a smirk, leans forward to press their foreheads together. Link giggles, eyes crinkling shut, kissing the corner of his upturned mouth, hands going to his upper chest, stroking over his sternum. 

“Barruff,” Rhett says, and if he had a tail to wag, he’d wag it. 

**Author's Note:**

> im a sucker for pup play i can't help it
> 
> kudos + comments if you enjoyed; thank you for reading!
> 
> talk to me on tmblr @ficfucker


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